of the Indian village concluded that the stone pillar represented
something inimical to their own rights of possession, so they had
it taken to the deepest part of the bay and there thrown overboard.
Previous to this they had vigorously protested against the invasion of
their peaceful country. Yet no blows had been struck.
The caravels headed down the coast with fair wind behind them and, not
far from the southern point of the island, which formed the seaward
barrier of the Bay of the Holy Cross, they saw a curious spot upon the
surface of the sea where the water boiled like a caldron, or as if some
mighty fountain flowed upward from a hole in the bed of the ocean. This
is a natural well in the Atlantic, quite similar to those on land, and
can still be seen by sailors off the Florida coast. There were great
schools of fish nearby, and many were captured in nets as the vessels
drifted slowly upon their course.
The voyagers coasted along the low-lying shore, admiring the view, and
finally saw a canoe approaching in which was a handsome youth, the
messenger from a native chieftain Sannatowah. He bore a missive to the
effect that, if the strangers came in peace, he was ready to meet them
in the same spirit, also; but if they came not with such intent, it
would be best for them to remain on board their floating houses, for
there were as many warriors in the land as there were palm trees in the
forests.
“How shall it be known whether we come in peace or in war?” asked Ponce
de Leon.
“By this,” answered the herald, touching the bow which was slung over
his shoulder, “if it be war. Or this,” laying his hand upon a green
branch thrust in his girdle, “if it be peace. There are eagle eyes
watching on yonder shore, and, whichever I hold up, the message goes
straight to Sannatowah!”
“And if I let you make no sign nor go back, what then?”
“War!” was the answer.
A smile came to the serious countenance of the Spanish seeker for the
Fountain of Youth as he said:
“I pray thee, then, young sea eagle, go to the prow of my ship and hold
up the green bough of peace. I pledge you my sacred word that there
shall be peace between thy people and mine as long as it is in my power
to have it so. Tell me if there be any answer from the shore and if all
is well. Tarry with us, so as to be our herald to your cacique.”
As he ceased speaking, the youthful Indian went forward, and, standing
upon the bowsprit, waved his green branch first towards the south, next
to the north, and then towards the sky. This over, he came back to the
after deck, saying:
“All is well. Sannatowah and his people will greet you as friends and
as guests.”
The Spaniards soon went ashore, greeted the Indian chieftain, and were
told by him that, two days’ easy journey to the westward, lay several
great springs and a mighty river, the beginning and end of which was
unknown to him. One of these springs, said he, was in the territory
of a tribe with which they were now at war; but, when he was a youth,
there had been peace, and he had often visited it. This spring was
deemed to be sacred. It was a great fountain which welled up from the
depths of the earth and was apparently bottomless. Its waters were as
clear as azure, so that one could see far into the pearly depths.
“I drank not of it,” he continued, “for the wise men of the tribe said
that it was forbidden by the Great Spirit, except to one of the tribe
in whose land it was. The fountain is in the country of Tegesta.”
Ponce de Leon tarried quietly in the bay for several days; but finally
landed his men, in order to travel to the place where lay this wondrous
fountain. He had ten horses on the caravels and one mule. These were
lowered overboard and swam ashore, which occasioned much surprise and
astonishment among the natives, who viewed these strange animals with
both fear and distrust.
When Father Antonio’s long-eared mule climbed from the ocean and struck
the solid earth with his hoofs (the first of his kind to come to
Florida) and then opened his mouth for one long, piercing bray, all the
natives took to the woods in impulsive flight. It was some time before
they dared to return.
Sannatowah was eager to befriend De Leon, and sent him guides to pilot
him to the place where lay the great river and the crystal spring; and,
although usually averse to such labor, a number of redskins went along
as porters, agreeing of their own free will to go at least as far as
their own boundaries. Everything was soon ready, the trumpets blared
out their clarion notes of warning, and the march began.
Through forests of great oaks, magnolias and palm trees which hung with
streamers of long, gray moss and matted vines, the Spaniards wended
their way, startling many a shy deer from the leafy coverts and once
or twice a great brown bear, which lumbered away, snorting with fear.
Mocking birds trilled at them from leafy branches, and squirrels
chattered and scolded from fallen tree trunks.
Carrying his helmet at his saddle-bow, so that he might feel the
refreshing breeze, De Leon rode at the head of the little column of
horse and foot until they came to a place in the forest where a great
tree lay prostrate over the trail.
“This,” said the native guides, “is the border of our lands. Beyond
is Tegesta. We can go no farther, for, while the flower of peace[1]
blooms, there is a truce between ourselves and those who live beyond.”
So the Spaniards made camp, but next morning they pressed onward into
the wilderness, and, passing around a great cypress swamp, suddenly
came upon an Indian village named Colooza, near a large lake. They
were met with a shower of arrows, but, clapping spurs to their horses,
soon drove the redskins behind a rude stockade which surrounded their
thatched huts.
De Leon flung himself from his horse, and, regardless of the arrows
which were singing around him and were glancing from his steel
breastplate, he led a charge upon the gate, with a wild cry of “St.
Iago and at them!” With his battle-ax he swept an entrance to the
palisade, and then, dashing in, followed by his men, the village
was soon cleared of all but five of the native Floridians. These,
apparently awed by the invulnerability of their opponents, gave in and
surrendered. They were compelled to go along with the Spaniards as
guides.
Passing through a country of well-tilled fields and gardens, where were
picturesque clusters of native houses, the discoverers came to the
waters of a great lake which was so wide that the woods were scarcely
distinguishable upon the opposite shore. This was Lake Munroe, a broad
expanse of the St. Johns River, which enters it at one end and flows
from it at the other. De Leon here halted, sending the captured natives
onward to find the chief of this country, telling them to assure him
that the white men were peacefully inclined and were in search of the
fabled and mystical Fountain of Perpetual Youth, which they had heard
was in the territory over which he held dominion.
At nightfall, one of these native runners appeared at the camp, bearing
the reply of the great chief Olatheta, which was that he was delighted
to learn that the strangers did not wish to war with him and requested
that their leader should meet him at the council house upon the
following day.
Ponce de Leon was overjoyed. Now he was nearing his goal, for he
believed that the Fountain of Perpetual Youth lay only a few leagues
before him. Eagerly he awaited the morrow, and, at the time set for the
advance, heralds came from Olatheta to conduct the Spaniards to their
chieftain.
The Castilians soon came upon a great collection of dwellings, many of
which were quite large, and before the largest of all was the chieftain
with his principal men. As they entered the town, the signal was given
for the trumpeters to blow and the drums to beat. This caused great
fear among the natives so that many ran away; but, seeing that there
were no signs of hostility on the part of the strangers, they resumed
their wonted attitude of stoical reserve.
“Pray, why have you come to this country?” asked Olatheta. “Are you
peaceful, or are you warlike?”
Ponce de Leon bowed.
“I am the servant of a Great King beyond the water,” said he, “and he
has given me the Governorship of these islands. So I have brought with
me a holy man to teach you the true religion, and, as I have heard that
you have here the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, I would like to visit it
and to drink of its wonderous waters.”
Olatheta smiled, as he answered:
“There is a great fountain near at hand, which we all reverence and
hold sacred. Yet, because my people have transgressed the proper laws
of our tribe, the Great Spirit has taken much of its virtue from it.
If, however, you wish to visit it, I will willingly accompany you. This
holy man of yours may induce the great God to restore its power, which
will be such a great blessing to my people that they will all rejoice
at your coming, instead of being angry with you, as many are now,
because of your attack upon Colooza.”
“Let us journey to this spring immediately,” said De Leon with
enthusiasm. “Good chieftain, lead on!”
Olatheta arose, and, beckoning to the Spaniards to attend him, walked
rapidly away. The Castilians followed, surrounded by a vast multitude
of natives, who crowded around them in wonder and curiosity. As they
wound through the thickets, Father Antonio’s mule startled every one
with a series of the most ear-piercing brays, which caused an instant
panic among the Indians, coupled with loud laugher from the soldiers.
“By the Saint of San Sebastian,” cried a Sergeant, called Bartola,
“were that mule mine and were this indeed the fountain whereof we are
in search, I should see to it that he drank not a drop of its waters.”
“Why so?” asked a smiling comrade.
“Why? A pretty question truly. Because there would be no place for any
sound on earth, if the waters would have such virtue to increase vigor
as they are said to have. All would have to fly before the thunderous
braying of yonder ass.”
The cavalcade passed onward, and, nearing a grove of stately trees,
the eager Spaniards saw a fountain such as they had never seen before
in any other land. There was a brim as round as a huge cup, and inside
were waters as clear as crystal, which boiled up from depths lost in
inky shadows, and ran over the edge into a little water course, which
gushed and bubbled towards the lake.
“Hurrah!” cried the eager De Leon. “It must indeed be the Fountain of
Youth! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”
The day was a beautiful one. Bright birds darted from the waving
branches, the sun shone brilliantly upon the armor of the Spanish
adventurers, as, with the horsemen in advance, clad with plumed
helmets, silver shields, upon which were emblazoned red lions, and
with sword and battle-axe clanking against their armored legs, the
Spaniards neared the gushing waters of the fountain.
In front of all was the good Father Antonio, who, holding with one hand
the bridle-rein of his dun-brown mule, raised the other in blessing.
The Indians crowded around him, awed by the sonorous Latin, and, as
he finished his benediction, Olatheta stepped forward and filled an
earthen cup, which he had brought, with water dipped from the fountain.
Turning about he handed it to Ponce de Leon.
Smiling, and with a trembling hand, the good knight raised the cup to
his lips. The cool liquid gurgled down his bronzed and weather-beaten
throat. Yet—oh! sad and distressing to relate! No part of his grizzled
exterior changed to the freshness of youth.
As he was raising this goblet to his lips, his companions rushed
tumultuously to the fountain and buried their heated faces in the clear
and sparkling water. They drank deeply, and in silence awaited the
beginning of miracles, each with eager eyes fixed upon his neighbor.
Again, alas! The miracles came not. Beards of grizzly gray remained the
same. Wrinkles did not disappear, and stiffened joints still moved with
the same lack of spring as of yore. Alack and aday!! The fountain had
lost its charm and was not the fabled water of perpetual youth.
The silence was broken by the solemn voice of Father Antonio:
[Illustration: JUAN PONCE DE LEON AT THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH.]
“God’s will be done!” cried he. “Blessed be His holy name!”
In sorrow and with downcast faces, the Spaniards turned about, and
wearily, dejectedly, mournfully, wended their way back to the camp of
the friendly Olatheta.
* * * * *
The good Knight Ponce de Leon traveled through much of this beautiful
land of Florida, fought many a stiff fight with the native inhabitants,
and finally sailed back to the isle of Porto Rico, bearing marvelous
tales of this land of promise, but no water which would restore the
agèd to youth and beauty. He journeyed to Spain, was received right
graciously by the King, and came back to his island home, expecting to
remain there in peaceful pursuits, until his demise.
Yet, still hoping to find that mystical and fabled fountain, he finally
fitted out two caravels, and, with a larger force than had followed his
banner in the first expedition, resolved to again explore the western
coast of beautiful Florida.
This journey was to be his undoing. At every point naked savages fought
desperately against his mailed warriors. In one of these encounters he
was attempting to rescue one of his comrades, when he was hit by an
arrow in the thigh. The barb penetrated the protecting armor to the
bone. He was rescued by his faithful followers and was carried to his
ship, weak and fainting from the loss of blood. It is said by some,
that, although the arrow was withdrawn, a part of the arrow-head,
which was of flint, did not come wholly away.
Suffering and delirious, the brave old navigator was borne to the
harbor of Matanzas in Cuba, where was a settlement which he, himself,
had founded. His adventurous companions lifted the pallet upon which he
lay on the upper deck, where the cooling breezes might alleviate his
fever, lowered it into a boat, and, when the shore was reached, carried
him tenderly into an unfinished house, which he was having constructed.
They brought his suit of mail, his banner, and his sword, placing
them around him so that he might feel at home. Delirium now seized
the care-worn explorer, and thus he lay for days, as, in fancy he saw
himself a boy again, climbing the bold rocks of the Sierras after young
eagles, contending in the courtyard with his brothers, or chasing the
brown deer in the leafy forests.
Then the camp and battle scenes passed before his eager vision; voyages
over vast seas among beauteous islands; expeditions through palms and
moss-grown mimosas; journeying to the villages of brown-skinned natives.
One night, peace came to the old warrior, and there was weeping and
sorrow among his staunch and battle-scarred companions.
They carried the body of the good knight to the Isle of Porto Rico,
where they first gave him a sepulchre within the castle, but eventually
his ashes were deposited beneath the high altar of the Dominican church
in San Juan de Puerto Rico, where they rested for more than three
hundred years.
When the American forces invaded the country in 1898, and took it away
from the rule of Castile, his remains were placed beneath a monument,
upon which was carved the trite but appropriate saying:
“This narrow grave contains the remains of a man who was a lion by
name, and much more so by nature.”
VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA:
DISCOVERER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN.
(1475-1517)
_A sob and a moan from the ocean; a voice from the swaying palm,_
_As a parroquet, brilliant with spangles, chatters and clatters
alarm._
_For a man stands gazing seaward, a man who is pale and worn,_
_With a lean hand shading his forehead, a doublet faded and torn._
_“I take you, O brilliant waters, for the King and Queen of Castile_
_And I name you the Southern Ocean, Ye must know how joyous I feel._
_For, from lands that are distant and foreign, I sailed to view and
explore,_
_And what I have seen is o’erpowering; what I behold, I adore.”_
_And the parroquet chattered and scolded, and the waters lay calm and
gray,_
_As Balboa, who found the Pacific, gazed and dreamed through the day._
VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA:
DISCOVERER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN.
(1475-1517)
IT is something to be a discoverer of anything. It must give the one
who has that happy fate a great thrill of satisfaction. He should know
that his name will go down to history as a man of particular eminence.
Yet, do you think that any of these early Spanish voyagers held that
thought? I doubt whether either De Soto, or Balboa, ever had any
extraordinary feeling of elation when they had feasted their eyes upon
the two great sheets of water, which, as far as we know, they were
the first white men to set eyes upon; the first, the Mississippi; the
second, the vast Pacific Ocean.
Once I thought that I had discovered a wide plateau upon the summit of
the Rockies. I knew that I was in an unexplored region which had never
been mapped, and, as I scrambled to a high eminence to look down upon
the headwater of a curving stream, I turned to my companion, exclaiming:
“This is magnificent! We are turning our eyes upon a scene of verdant
beauty upon which no one but the wild Cheyenne, or roving Blackfoot
warrior has ever gazed before! I feel thrilled! I feel awed! I feel in
the same way that Columbus must have felt, when—”
“He saw that tomato can lying down there in that sage bush,”
interrupted my companion, dryly, and sure enough—some accursed white
man had been there before me! It was a drop from the sublime to the
ridiculous!
But Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, when he stood upon the shores of the
Pacific, was aware that he was the first Spaniard to set eyes upon this
particular sheet of water, because he had learned from the Indians that
such an ocean existed, and, so far, no explorer had yet come to Spain
who had brought word of it. The accounts of the scene say that he was
thrilled and awed by the vision which came to him, and that, realizing,
when approaching the water, that he was about to view an ocean which
no other European had ever seen, he left his party behind him, so that
no one else should share his honor. This shows a selfishness which is
quite characteristic of these early Spanish adventurers and discoverers.
Balboa was not only selfish, but he was also daring. He was likewise a
fellow of considerable humor, as the following incident will illustrate.
The adventurer and explorer was tall, red-headed and athletic. He had
come from a good family in Spain, and, when a young man, had emigrated
to the New World, where he had settled as a farmer in Hispaniola.
Here he was soon overwhelmed with debt, as he was loose and prodigal
in his habits. His creditors pressed him severely and it came to be
quite a problem with him how to escape these persons who were hounding
his trail. But he was clever, and eluded their watchfulness by having
himself hauled in a cask from his farm to a vessel, which was about
to set sail. As this barrel was supposed to contain provisions, he
was soon safely out to sea. The contents of that cask were the most
animated that the sailors had ever seen, and, when the stowaway gained
the deck, shouting: “Good morning, Señors, I am going to be one of you
henceforth,” the Spanish stevedores nearly fainted from surprise.
In those days the Spaniards were continually making new settlements
near the Isthmus of Panama, and the venturesome Balboa had fallen in
with a body of adventurers who settled at Darien, a native village
upon the east coast of the Isthmus and near a great bay. There were
many natives at this town when the Castilians arrived, but, although
they put up a sharp fight in order to protect their village and their
possessions, they were routed by the navigators, who seized their
village, with a large quantity of food and cotton, and also a great
mass of gold ornaments, worth fifty thousand dollars. This place seemed
to be healthy and fertile, so, from this time forth, it became the
headquarters of the Spaniards in the New World.
As has seemed to be perpetually the case in Spanish America, when
these settlers were not fighting Indians, they were fighting among
themselves. There were two Governors in the country, at this period,
who had the sweet-sounding names of Encisco and Nicuesa, and, as is
customary with Spanish-American potentates, they were soon at daggers’
points with one another.
Balboa carefully stirred up the resentment between them, hoping that
there would come a revolution, after which he would step into the
Governorship, himself. Encisco declared that he had control over
the town and citizens of Darien, but Balboa contented that Darien
was situated in the territory assigned to Nicuesa and that Encisco
had no authority there, whatsoever. Stirred by the speeches of this
cask-traveler, the Spanish adventurers refused obedience to the pompous
Encisco.
Some one, at this moment, sent to Nombre de Dios, another settlement
on the coast, and advised Nicuesa to come down to Darien in order to
act as Governor. Balboa stirred up a revolution against him, while
he was on his way, declaring that his reputation was that of a harsh
administrator, that he ruled in a very high-handed fashion, and that he
would be a worse ruler than Encisco.
The hot Spanish blood began to boil in the inhabitants of Darien, and
had soon boiled to such a pitch that, when Nicuesa sailed into the
harbor, he was greeted by an angry rabble who yelled at him derisively,
refused to receive him as governor, and, when he attempted to march
into the city, attacked him with swords and drove him into the woods.
To the credit of Balboa be it said that he now interceded for the poor
fellow, so that no actual harm was done him, and, since he refused to
return to Nombre de Dios, he was presented with the worst vessel in the
harbor and the most unseaworthy, in which to return to Spain. This he
did with a few faithful followers, and was never heard of again in the
New World.
Now see how the crafty Vasco Nuñez de Balboa profited by this little
revolution, for, having deposed one of the governors, and having sent
away the other, the irascible inhabitants of the country chose Balboa
and a man named Lamudio to rule them as magistrates.
Encisco was, of course, furious at this and shortly sailed to Spain in
order to plead his own cause before the King; but Balboa was not to be
caught napping. He dispatched his friend, Lamudio, along at the same
time in order to offset the pleas of the angry Encisco, and, to further
aid and abet his own cause, secretly loaded him with a sound sum of
gold with which to ease the palm of the royal treasurer in old Madrid.
He was crafty, as you can well appreciate.
What do you think of this fellow now? From being a mere stowaway, and
an outcast who was hunted by his creditors and head over heels in debt,
this adventurous Spaniard, at one bound had risen to be a governor and
commander of troops. And in this new rôle he showed marked ability,
for he not only led his men well against the native chiefs, but also
managed to gain the confidence of these wild inhabitants of the
Isthmus, so that, one after another, they became his friends and his
allies.
Balboa kept up his expeditions into the unknown interior and more
than once was told that a vast ocean lay beyond the mountains which
jutted up from the table-land of the central portion of this strip of
country between North and South America. Several natives spoke of a
gray, glittering body of water, quite different from the Atlantic. The
Indians said that “it was far away,” so, as Balboa anticipated a long
journey to see and make certain of the native tales, he determined to
ask assistance from the King of Spain. In spite of the fact that he was
really a rebel and was ruling over a colony of revolutionists, we find
that he actually did send a letter to Ferdinand, asking for a thousand
men to be dispatched to him, so that he might undertake the discovery
of this fabled ocean. He was careful to send along some gold, for
nothing spoke more loudly with the Spanish sovereign than this.